All of These Things

by De Mattea, Anna

  “This one, babe.” Jay stops before a narrow, rectangular residence. “Shop at the bottom and an apartment on top. Can you picture it?” he presses, looking up at the grey shingled home.

  “Except it has to be white, and the shutters need to be turquoise. That’s how I’ve been imagining it, right, Caroline? Remember I showed you something like that on Pinterest?”

  “Er… you have a lot of boards on Pinterest. What exactly am I supposed to be remembering?”

  “My tea shop!” Sofie blows her top with excitement.

  I wrap my mind around it for a second. Her tea shop? The tea-slash-book shop? That tea shop? I remember something about turquoise shutters because Sofie has an entire board dedicated to shutters. I guess she wants Jay concocting something like this place at home. Things are really moving fast for these two. Their courtship has been like a spell under one massive gas leak, cavorting around town, totally intoxicated with each other.

  “It’s cute. The place is adorable, but do you really want to live in your shop? And what part of the city are you thinking? I’m not sure what space is left in Montreal. You’ll have to branch out.”

  “Exactly!” she erupts jubilantly. “I knew you were able to understand.”

  I remind myself that she’s not trying to attack my intelligence, but is truly complimenting me in her own way.

  “See, Jay,” Sofie says slipping an arm under mine, and the three of us look up in unison at the structure. “Even my overly sensible accountant knows I have to spread my wings. It’s time to split off from city life and find a gem somewhere else. What better place can there be than the one that’s been calling my name from the day I was born?”

  “God, I’m so fucking happy right now,” Jason says, and Sofie disconnects from me to fall into an embrace with him.

  I reckon I should proceed cautiously since I feel like I’m speaking a foreign language around these two slobbering idiots. I wait a moment longer so they can wipe dribble off their faces.

  “Um… hello?” I begin, preparing to probe for details. “Can someone tell me what’s going on because last I heard, Sofie, New Orleans was calling your name, too. I mean, you’ve got a Pinterest board dedicated to that. How far from the city are we talking about? I was just thinking twenty minutes to a half hour out of Montreal.”

  Sofie sighs. “You see how you don’t listen to me when I talk?”

  “Enlighten me,” I snarl.

  “What’s better than homemade, organic tea for a walk by the beach? And,” Sofie injects, “buying a new book? York needs a place like that, so it’s Sofie to the rescue.”

  I really do mean to answer, but my thoughts have hit a wall.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I shout more loudly than I planned because a jogger stops in his track to stare me down.

  “I want to open a seasonal shop in Maine, and Jay’s on board,” Sofie announces.

  I blink.

  However ridiculously hard this is to sum up, it is even harder to swallow and keep down. In truth, I’m debating if I want to erupt into laughter or throttle her. I manage her money! I know she’d have a hard time getting a loan back home for a venture that’ll last about fifty-nine seconds, and now she wants to embark out here? To top it all off, she wants to do it with a guy she’s known—let’s see, tallying it up—about thirty days. Pff… Of course, a business deal would be the next step. Sofie’s finally gone mad!

  Nevertheless, my first thought is to be tactful—truly it is—and approach this diplomatically. But it’s Sofia-Marie I’m dealing with, and I need to serve her a heaping dose of she’s out of her mind straightaway.

  “Seasonal,” I say frigidly. “How much money will this shop make for you to survive the rest of the year? Bills don’t stop coming in after Labour Day, Sofie. You still have to manage the place and invest in the inventory and live for God’s sake! How will you live?”

  “We’re still working on the logistics, Caroline. You worry too much,” Sofie says, exasperatingly merry. “Tonight you can help us through all of that humdrum since you know… cramping my style is your forte.”

  I wince, aftershocks of disbelief and fury ripple through me.

  “We can put our thinking caps on and make a real business plan with your help, Caroline,” Jay steps in.

  Suddenly, I loathe his entire likability. The whole nice thing he’s got going on is not convenient when I’m trying to make a point.

  “Caroline, I really, really care for Sofie,” he says, “and honestly, I’m just up to whatever with her.”

  “But you’re practically moving her out here!” I cry.

  “I like her here.” He smiles shyly, and I crack.

  “Well you can’t have her!”

  “Honestly, Care,” Sofie ensues, “it’s just a five-hour drive from home.”

  “Yeah, at the cost of my bladder and a police chase.”

  “Okay, six hours if nature calls. But I’m not moving away completely.”

  “My God, you’re serious. You’re actually jumping into this. You know, she’ll be bored before the open sign goes up,” I fire off, turning to Jason.

  “Hey, I always finish what I start,” Sofie fumes.

  “And then it’s over like that,” I say, snapping my fingers. “Without a single look back, either. And that goes for you, too, Jay-the-Contractor.” I overrun his name like a petulant child smearing lipstick across a mirror. “You better start interviewing other Canadian girls, if that’s what you’re into, because this one’s got an expiration date for everything and everyone in her life! Did Sofie ever tell you about Nick?” Instantly, a cleft cracks my heart as I abridge my words and comportment.

  “Stop acting like a bitch, Care. And, yes, I did actually tell him about Nick.” Sofie’s face doesn’t change, and it’s a sub-zero, deadpan glare.

  Finally, my heart has had enough, and it splits open. It has swallowed the sounds of the town because I don’t hear anything but my unprotected heartbeat. I feel vulnerable, exposed, and absolutely defenceless.

  “When were you going to tell me?” I hiss.

  “It’s not like I had a definite plan. Jay and I really got to talking last night in bed, and it was something we toyed with the last time I was in town. Being here just brought it up again.”

  “Just like that?”

  Sofie exhales noisily. “Yeah,” she answers. “Just like that.”

  This news has spoiled the most breathtaking hour in York. The sun sets as high tide rolls in, pushing residents and faithful visitors away, up past the sharp, slippery bluffs. My silence gives away the fact that I’m not composed enough to be pleasant yet, so I look across the street and stare out at the glowing junction where the sea meets sky.

  “Don’t follow me,” I say, stomping away to get a closer glimpse of Long Beach.

  “Caroline!” I hear Sofie scream.

  “Caroline!” Jason tries, but I speed up to reach the shore even if my body feels like it’s suddenly packed with lead.

  Chapter Eleven

  When my grip on the ridge of the sidewalk loosens, the muscles in my neck concurrently slacken. The menacing rush from small, barreling waves still threatens to work its way up to me. The tide slaps the mounds of rocks below, drawing back just in time, dumping sediments wherever it must.

  I was under the clichéd impression that time stood still on holiday, but it zooms by quicker. We have four nights left in Maine, and the thought depresses me. Funny how I scorned this trip only days ago, but I long for just a little more.

  “You’ll have to stop that, Caroline.”

  I startle—Alec has taken the wind out of me.

  “It’s not fair to take attention away from a sunset,” he says, now at my side.

  “Alec.” His name is lost in a heavy breath. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry, love. It’s
not my fault you’re beautiful. Join me for a walk?” He extends an arm.

  I hesitate, clipping my lip under a tooth just so I have something else to do, other than notice how attractive he looks. I need help because he’s in a white t-shirt, like the very first time I saw him. His jeans are somewhat close-fitting on top and looser at the bottom, sitting over scuffed-up, brown leather boots. He’s a stunning mélange of nattily unkempt combinations, and I do want to go with him, yet I know better.

  “Come on, now. Walk with me, Caroline. I know you’re probably thinking of your betrothed in a romantic setting like this. You can tell me all about the bloke,” he goads.

  “Betrothed?” I sneer. “Are you from the sixteenth century or something?”

  “Isn’t that what Ryan is? Your intended?”

  “We’re not engaged, Alec.”

  “How about that. You’re talking to me, already. Come... walk with me.”

  I try to avoid eye contact, and my inane to-and-fro gaze is expecting to find divine intervention. I need it to tell me what I should do. I want to gather the opinions of every passerby and ask if they would accept in my shoes. His request caught me off guard, but my indecision cues to the evidence that a walk is, indeed, a bad idea.

  “Bloody hell. It’s a walk, darling! Shall I lift you up and gather you in my arms again?”

  “No!” I screech, and Alec looks victorious with raised brows and twinkling eyes. He riles me further with a pretentious smile, and glows with playful mischief.

  I jump to his side, huffing and sulking as I stomp ahead of him. He doesn’t try to contain a laugh and breaks out into a run to catch up to me.

  “Oh, sweet Caroline. Come, love. Don’t be this way. I have a gift for you.”

  “Pff...” I snort.

  “You don’t even know why you’re mad at me. Come here. Stop this insanity for one instant.” He tugs at my arm so I’m forced to face him. What’s even more grating is realizing he’s controlling his laughter by biting on the inside of his cheek.

  “Stop laughing at me.”

  “I’m not. I’m not, love,” he says, failing to prove otherwise.

  I express my annoyance with a ridiculous stance and cross my arms under my breasts. “What? What gift? Why’d you buy me something?”

  “I saw it, thought of you, and bought it as an offering. It’s simply a token—so here. You should have it.” Cautiously, he offers me a white plastic bag.

  I purse my lips to suppress an emerging smile, but can’t fully accomplish it.

  “I’m sorry. I’m in a mood, I suppose. Which, by the way, I was not before your friend made it clear that he’s motivating Sofie to move out here.”

  “Ah. Yes, so you heard.”

  “You knew?”

  “Jason mentioned as much. But, it’s well-defined that Sofie demonstrated the initial intrigue.”

  I feel I’ve drained of colour, which is quite a deed for someone pallid like me. On a good day, I have the peachy undertone I inherited from my mother, but under the influence of direct sunlight, I can develop an instant redness and a light scattering of golden freckles.

  He is right about Sofie, of course. Yet, as a rule, his general effect on me makes me cross and nervous. It’s a fresh and raw subject that I deter the continuation of by peeking into, what I assume from the quality of the bag, is a purchase from a souvenir shop. A red t-shirt with white print secures my interest:

  “I don’t follow baseball,” Alec begins, “but I do know New Englanders sing this particular song for their Boston Red Sox. I thought it was adorable... like you, so I bought it. Will you accept it, or should I expect a row about this, too?”

  The question is droll and lighthearted, but nonetheless it launches an exotic heat streaming through my body. I stare into his eyes, trying not to break off the gaze this time, but his is just too extreme to compete with. When I intersect the trance, I smile humbly, hoping to conceal my internal scuffle. I don’t want to be this engrossed by his presence, but I am, and it sets me in a panic. I want to blame it on the accent, or the sea air, but it’s him—all of him.

  “This is really thoughtful,” I manage. “Thank you.”

  What exactly do I do now? Look up into his eyes again, kiss his cheek? His proximity throws me. I feel dizzy, too hot and then too cold. My stomach churns, and I know I can’t blame the concussion for any of it. Alec’s entire existence confounds me. I’m flattened by emotions, bulldozed to a splat of chaos and anxiety. Thankfully, he’s about to speak and cut into the silence.

  “How’s your head?” he asks, steering us to safer ground.

  “Fine. I’m just a little sensitive to light. How was your day?” I ask, much more relaxed than mere seconds ago, and we commence a leisure stroll.

  “Aggravating,” he retorts quickly. “It failed to distract me.”

  He glances over to me, simplifying the rationale behind his statement, and my heart risks jumping out of my body. I nearly stop mid-stride, contemplating leaving him stranded, but hasten my pace instead.

  “You are like a maddening child. What’s wrong now?” he implores. “You know, I’ve never witnessed beauty in wrath and fury. I must thank you, Caroline, or I would have never of known it.”

  I scoff.

  The footpath meets a large playground and a public parking area. Beach Street is up ahead, but I avoid it, primarily because its main resident is a large arcade establishment. Via the car lot, we head for Ocean Avenue.

  “I was not under the impression that a walk meant a cat and mouse chase with you. Come here. Stop this, Caroline. What in bloody hell has you so vexed?” He clasps my wrist, and I glare.

  We stand a moment this way, and too soon, I suck my cheeks in, an attempt to restrain a grin. I fail miserably as a smile gets away from me, and I begin to laugh foolishly. My chuckling provokes Alec too generate his own hearty burst.

  “You, Caroline... you entertain me. Truly, you do.”

  “I entertain you?”

  “Yes. You’re completely unexpected and utterly frustrating,” he explains and comes a little closer.

  “Oh, really?” I dare.

  “Really. I get a lot of pleasure from you. I like you.”

  My courage vanishes. I absolutely don’t know what to do with that.

  “Let’s walk,” he says, noting my fretting look, and we turn onto Main Street.

  There’s a beat from a blues band lingering in the background as their music escapes an open, double-gallery pub. It looks like the place to be for people like us when the rest of the town is mainly a bustle of young, excitable families and precious senior couples.

  Nubble Light is the main theme in every shop we go by, but salt water taffy and fudge lure me into a mind-boggling array of flavours. We pass a New Age, Amerindian store hosting a demure crowd, and I’m certain Sofie has been in there before. Alec notices my interest shift inside.

  “Do you want to go in, love?”

  “No, that’s alright. To be honest, I was just thinking about Sofie.”

  “I see. Was there a spat after the big disclosure?”

  “Nothing we can’t handle, but,” I stop and look over to Alec as though preparing him for the worst, “I was really bitchy with Jason.”

  Alec’s brows shoot up, and I’m stabbed with guilt.

  “I was insensitive, and my temper got the best of me, so I really have to apologize before the night is over. Maybe,” I say, “you can call him for me. I don’t have his number, but I’d appreciate you helping me with this.”

  Alec smiles, letting me intuit the meaning of it, and gradually I beam back a thank you. He softly runs a fingertip across my forehead, slipping it through my hair and places locks behind my ear.

  “I’ve wanted to do that from the time by the fire,” he says.

  I swallow.

  His statement doe
sn’t carry a taste of lewd flirtation. It’s rather earnest and sincere, but he holds my gaze without trouble, until I flush and have to look away.

  “So tell me about Ryan?” he proposes, obviously knowing my reason for retracting.

  “You mean my betrothed,” I leer. “You like to poke your nose into everyone’s business, don’t you?”

  “Far from,” he responds.

  “Then why do you dig into mine?”

  “Because I’m curious about you,” Alec declares calmly and honestly, tempting me with what’s becoming an irresistible, pretentious air. “And driving you mad has become quite the hobby.”

  I need to muster all the strength I can manage not to come undone. “You’re bordering on juvenile behaviour,” I retort. “Aren’t Englishmen supposed to be refined and sophisticated? Of course, I have to meet the one who’ll drive me to murder instead.”

  Promptly he presses his chest against the side of my arm, cupping his hand behind my neck. My nose is under his chin, and my eyes graze at his thin, light stubble.

  “Love me or hate me, both are in my favour. If you love me, I’ll always be in your heart. If you hate me, I’ll always be in your mind.”

  His voice slithers in my ear, circulating around my head like a snake.

  “Shakespeare?” I ask, trying to pull off a relatively unaffected stance when I’ve nearly lost all my bearings.

  “The one and only.”

  “So England’s full of annoying men. Thanks for the tip. I’ll have to stay clear.”

  “So, go on. Tell me about this bloke,” he pesters.

  “Don’t say it like that.”

  “Love, where I come from bloke is not an insult. It means lad, chap—or dude in America.”